Sweet Coincidence
by Ysanne Latchman

Last Thursday night, I felt incredibly blessed. An already overwhelming sense of pride in my country was rejuvenated when I attended the sold-out On Da Reggae Tip, the second annual dancehall bash sponsored by HOT 97, a leading urban radio station in the tri-state area. Manhattan’s famed Hammerstein Ballroom was ‘ram’ with thousands of fans fresh from the high of the annual West Indian Day parade. They were starving for an all too infrequent taste of Yardie Vibes in a hip-hop heavy listener base. The line-up read like a dancehall lover’s dream: Vybz Kartel, TOK, Wayne Marshall, Wayne Wonder, Bounty Killer and Elephant Man.

PUUUUUUUUL UPPPPPPPP! Tunes from Sizzla, Capleton, Bounty and other dons of the dancehall rang out during the pre-show juggling courtesy of Hot 97’s Bobby Konders and Jabba. I was transported to a sweet Stone Love dance or Renaissance ‘session’. I had debated my wardrobe carefully and finally opted for basic blue jeans and a white tank, with my belt and a legwarmer-turned-arm-sleeve in vibrant, proud Red, Green and Gold. Little did I know that my choice would later bring a powerful wave of pride that would move me almost to tears. I remembered the days when I was a high school student and could hardly wait until I was old enough to finally go to a downtown dance or uptown session and witness the lyrical mastery and hypnotic rhythms of Dancehall. Ten or so years have passed since then and I have proudly immersed and baptized myself in the culture.

The show was flawless from start to finish. Jamaicans, Trinis, Guyanese, Puerto Ricans, Dominicans, dancehall fans of all shades sang, signaled the plane, rowed the boat and higher leveled while their lighters flickered in unison. It was like some sort of paradise. The Warlord, Bounty Killer took control of the patrons amid an almost deafening chorus of his hits old and new. My voice and knees threatened to fail me as I shouted his lyrics and jumped in elated euphoria.

Elephant Man, the Energy god came onstage last. Decked out in a baseball uniform and football shoulder pads…(yes, the kind used in the NFL), he was ready for business. He kept up his usual antics and gallivanted all over the stage. Clearly this is a man who has his daily dose of Milo, Horlicks AND Ferrol.

He claimed every single soul inside Hammerstein Ballroom like some kind of musical majesty and made them his willing subjects. Everyone struggled to find space in the thick crowd to ‘give it a run’ and ‘pon di river’. He concluded the hyperactive set with his latest hits and most memorably, a rendition of ‘We Are The World’, complete with the Elephant Man Choir hoisting placards with messages like ‘Save the children’ and ‘Heal the world’. Spellbound, I could only laugh, shake my head and say, “Damn. This man is a rock star!”

Imagine the feeling that washed over me as I left the venue only to see the Empire State Building emblazoned in Red, Green and Gold! My eyes all but popped out of my head as I touched the sleeve on my arm, for it too bore the very same colors. It was too sweet a coincidence. “Raahtid! Kerry yuh see dat?!,” I yelled to my friend. “Look weh wi reach gyal! Rastafari reach di Empire State Building! Rasta gone global. Bleertseeeed, weh di camera deh? Tek one picture quick!” In that moment, I felt an even stronger sense of just how blessed I am to call myself Jamaican.

I didn’t find out until the next day when I visited the Empire State Building website that the lights the previous night were to celebrate Portuguese Independence… but I didn’t care, because as far as I was concerned, those lights were a splendid, triumphant display of Rastafarianism, Reggae and Jamaica gone gloriously global.